


A Tangled Web but we were Meant to Be

by evevill



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Post-Season 2, my personal season 3 wish fulfillment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-08-11 00:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20144182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evevill/pseuds/evevill
Summary: Eve needs to get to the nearest hospital. Villanelle needs to get out of this insufferable red jumpsuit. And everything else that happens next.





	1. Chapter 1

Her eyes open and all she hears is the chirping of birds. Then she registers the heat of the sunrays beaming down on her. In the faint background, the sounds of tourists gleefully exploring Rome can be heard.

That’s everything Eve intakes at first and then she remembers.

Fuck. She’s bleeding. A lot. From a bullet wound.

“Shiiitttt” Eve whines in pain as she rolls over onto her back, clutching her abdomen.

Panic starts to set in. Can she walk? Where is the nearest hospital? If she screamed, would anybody hear her?

Her first question is quickly answered as she bends her legs and realizes she is still capable of mobility. Eve scoots with her legs to the nearest pillar, hoists herself up with one hand while still holding her wound with the other.

Eve is no doctor, can barely stomach medical shows, but does know hobbling and hoping someone appears is much less productive than actively getting to a hospital to stop the bleeding.

So she walks. Yelps with pain. Finds the exit to the ruins, and, mercifully, only has to limp a little way before strangers find her and call for help. Eve immediately collapses to the ground and waits for the ambulance.

It’s only once she’s on the stretcher and well on her way to the hospital that she allows herself to think, _what the actual fuck Villanelle_.

She must be more delirious than she realizes to accidentally say that out loud as the paramedic looks at her with a puzzled expression, “Sorry, did you just say you’re in hell?” 

Eve looks at her, deadpan, and says, “Yes.”

* * *

_I need a shower and I need to get out of this insufferable red jumpsuit_. Villanelle is pacing Rome. More furious than she’s ever been in her life. Well okay, maybe more when Anna watched her in disgust as she was arrested, or when someone used a shiv on her in prison, or when Eve stabbed her.

But _this_, the promise of Alaska, the belief in a kiss, oh this is still sheer rage.

Yes, that’s the dominant emotion she’s feeling, Villanelle decides. Rage. She’s actively ignoring the others. Ones she doesn’t’ often feel. Pain, longing, rejection, sadness, grief, and fear are all looming deep within her gut.

It’s a lot for one person to feel. And it doesn’t happen regularly to her. Perhaps the last time was her tear-streaked face as the police arrested her at Anna’s house, when Anna didn’t love her anymore, and she felt the consequences of misunderstanding Anna’s desires. That’s the last time she felt like this.

But she was a child then. This time, misunderstanding Eve left her in a much more satisfactory position. She won.

For Eve to tease her, say, “okay” to her plans. The spaghetti, Alaska, the implied intimacy. She got what she deserved.

Except when she arrives at a motel she’s familiar with, throws a wad of cash at the receptionist, and finally climbs into the shower. She cries.

There are no sobs like there were in Amsterdam. Instead, it’s silent tears. She’s both furious and fascinated with the wetness on her cheek.

She hopes Eve’s good and dead. But that doesn’t explain why the tears don’t stop.

* * *

When Eve wakes up from the hospital her hand immediately reaches for her wound, and she realizes she’s been stitched and healed. In fact, she feels rather nice. Whatever drugs she’s on, they’re working like a charm.

“You’re awake?” A voice in the room says. British.

Eve sits up.

“What the- Kenny?” Eve can’t hide her confusion.

“Try not to sound so thrilled.” Kenny gets out his phone and begins scrolling, “Your flight back to London is tomorrow evening. I’ve got to take the earlier flight so you’ll have to taxi there alone. You’re pretty lucky that bullet of yours did minimal damage.”

Eve sits up a little, “I don’t understand. Why are you here? Doing this?”

“Mum takes clean up crew very seriously. MI6 agent found shot and abandoned in an Italian hospital isn’t a great look. She’ll expect to see you, as well, as soon as you are in London.”

Eve looks at Kenny dumbfounded, and then scoffs, “Not sure if your precious mum is who I want to be seeing now.”

Kenny gives Eve a hard stare, looks more distraught than when Eve hired and hit on herself, and responds, “Do you know there was a man found brutally murdered at the hotel you were staying at? So tell me, is this a time you’d like to sever ties with MI6?”

_Fuck. _Is it horrible that Eve had kind of . . . forgotten about that? She was in shock, then her final moments with Villanelle, and the aftermath of focusing on survival, the axe . . . the blood . . . his pleas . . . all come rushing back to Eve.

Unfortunately for her, she’s not a great actress. And the bile that rises in her throat and a panicked look on her face says it all.

“That’s what I thought.” Kenny gets up, places a ticket, and miraculously Eve’s passport, a phone, and a few belongings, on her bedside table. “Mum will message when she needs to see you. Hope you feel better.”

There’s no sincerity to his voice.

* * *

Villanelle wakes up the next day sore. She takes one look in the mirror and groans. Deep purple bruises are forming on her neck where Raymond had choked her yesterday. Going unnoticed will be made much more difficult now that she looks like a battered wife.

Nevertheless, she is determined. She is on a mission. Fuck Eve. That’s over now. Villanelle craves to find Konstantin and exact some type of revenge on him and his family.

She’s not exactly sure what she wants. Killing him seems too easy. She always resorts to that. Taking Irina again could be fun, although Villanelle doesn’t feel in the mood for teenage ramblings.

Perhaps she’ll torture him for information. The side comment he threw out about her family, that “most” are dead. What does he mean by that? Villanelle only vividly recalls an absentee mother and father growing up, but there are other faces from her childhood, ones whose names she’s forgotten and whose relation to her have completely vanished from memory.

Beyond that, Villanelle wants information about the Twelve, too. She’s been distracted since Eve stabbed her. Lovesick and aimless.

But now that they sent Raymond to kill her, she’s certifiably offended.

So, yes. Finding Konstantin would be her next move. Maybe she should visit Carolyn and demand the address at gunpoint, or search school records for Irina’s enrollment, or or or . . .

What she’s definitely, actively not doing is snooping around Italian hospitals. Nope. Not happening. Because she doesn’t care, she doesn’t care, she doesn’t care.

Villanelle repeats that to herself until she’s successfully snatched a computer from somebody’s bag from the motel lobby, and begins to formulate her Konstantin revenge plans.

* * *

When Eve lands in London, the pain in her side is throbbing but not dire. Of greater concern are all the tangled webs she now has to deal with.

Carolyn will be wanting to meet. Her job, her career, does that even exist now?

And, also, she killed someone. Like, fully this time. Why is it so often when she comes back to her home of London, there’s blood on her hands?

Is it even safe to go home? Would Niko eve-

_Fuck. _Niko. In all the chaos Eve forgot she’d been married for 15 years. Wait, did Niko leave her? She can’t even remember now.

Did he leave her before or after she listened to Villanelle fuck herself?

Wait.

Definitely before. Because she fucked Hugo in Rome like he was a human dildo.

_Fuck!_ Hugo! Is he alive? Why didn’t she ask Kenny?

Why is she so selfish? Wait, not completely selfish. Why did everyone lie to her? Set her up?

Eve decides this is definitely all too much, and if she gets home and the Twelve are waiting to exact their revenge, so be it.

Except the Twelve are not waiting when her taxi pulls to the front. Nobody’s waiting, and her house looks completely untouched since when she last left it.

She walks into every room just to make sure. No men sneaking around, no pouty Niko, no Villanelle . . . on her knees . . .begging for forgiveness . . . not like that would happen. But Eve’s exhausted and she crawls into bed and that’s the fantasy she uses to lull her to sleep.

_Brrrrriinnnnnng_

Her cell phone goes off and Eve groggily shoots up and grabs it.

“Wha- who?”

“Eve. Excellent. I trust you’ve made it home safely?” Carolyn’s voice cuts crisp through Eve’s quiet room.

Carolyn doesn’t wait for a response. 

“I expect to see you tomorrow. 10 am. At the office. Bit of a mishap while you were away, Niko found himself in a storage closet with a young woman murdered. Very odd. I’ll see you then.”

Carolyn cuts the phone line, leaving no room for commentary, and Eve screams into her pillow.

* * *

After hours of research, Villanelle has no true leads. She blames her distracted mind, her distracted heart, and, really, the whole damn world has done her wrong. She feels quite pitiful.

She tries to touch herself to rid her anxious mind, but thinking of Eve like that now makes her feel wrong. Villanelle wonders if this is guilt.

So she decides instead to distract herself with online shopping, she’s due for a wardrobe upgrade, but just as she’s pulling up her favorite sites she hears somebody jiggling her motel doorframe. 

She shoots up immediately from her bed, grabs the cursed tiny gun on her bedside table and shoves it in the back of her sweatpants. The jiggling becomes more pronounced and Villanelle quietly sneaks across to hide behind the door that will soon be broken into.

The door does break and a man, no taller than her, bursts through with a gun pointed. Villanelle can immediately tell he’s inexperienced.

It’s quick really. She jumps him from behind. Twists him around forcefully, and kicks him firmly in the balls.

The man, really a boy now that she gets a look at his face, squeals a high-pitched noise. He drops the gun to cower in pain.

Villanelle picks his head up by the root of his hair and he looks at her and he groans, “Oh fuck. This was not how this was supposed to go.”

She chuckles and fake sympathizes. She tuts out, “Poor baby.” Throws the boy onto her bed and points what was once his gun at his head.

“Does the Twelve really think this little of me?” she scoffs.

“I-“ the boy stutters, tears forming in his eye, “I’m just doing what I am told, please.”

Villanelle makes a “pffft” sound with her lips. “You know, _I_ have been doing what I was told and it has gotten me nowhere. My former bosses degrade me by sending Raymond and now some amateur boy to kill their most sensational employee. So rude.” She gives a dramatic sigh, “And my girlfriend is most likely dead, too.”

The boy’s mouth opens and closes. Either for a loss for words or just sheer panic of the overall situation.

“Now,” she begins, “Do you want to be useful to me or do you want to just die?”

“Useful!” he begs.

Villanelle steps closer with the gun still pointed, “Tell me everything you know. About the Twelve. If you are helpful to me, you may go.”

Villanelle is about to start her fun; it’s been a while since she’s played like this, and this is how she operates best. Cocky. With the upper hand.

However, when the boy sputters out, “She’s not dead! Your girlfriend.” Villanelle’s façade fades.

“What did you just say to me?”

The boy takes a deep swallow.

“Eve? Right? She’s your girl? They are going after her, too. I heard them. They said she was in hospital and when she gets back to London, which is soon, they will send someone.”

Villanelle doesn’t accurately know how to process this. There’s a sting in her eye. The want to scream into the void. The . . . relief . . . is definitely bubbling within her, too.

The boy continues, “They mentioned a, uh, a Constant? Constant-something?”

“Konstantin.” Villanelle provides.

“Yes! Yes. They said London for him, too.”

Villanelle takes a deep breath, puts on her well-practiced fake smile, and says, “Well, you’ve been more than helpful to me. Thank you. “

“Does this mean I get to go?” The boy looks hopeful.

“Sure,” she says. Then shoots him square in the face.

It’s quick. He doesn’t suffer. Villanelle has no time to take care of the mess and quickly gathers her things.

She heads to the airport, and books a ticket to London.

She’s excited to go home.


	2. Chapter 2

Eve wakes up to a loud alarm, completely disoriented. It takes her a moment to realize she’s back at home, and for a blissful second, she experiences sleepy confusion before the past week comes flooding back into her mind. She checks her stitches and begins the monotony of a morning routine.

The pit in her stomach is deep and knotted as she shuffles around her house. She tossed and turned last night after Carolyn’s call. Completely petrified by the news that Niko is now so intimately involved with her mistakes. She tried to keep him separate from the chase between her and Villanelle, actively withheld information, and distanced him to the point of him leaving her.

She assumes the murdered woman is Gemma, and Eve feels an overwhelming sense of irritation. She’s not going to grieve a woman she barely knows, but she’s just so _irritated _with Villanelle.

Truly, that’s her most prominent feeling. Why would Villanelle think Niko is even a concern to her at this point? Had Eve not been acting so blindingly stupid when it comes to her? Was it not obvious she’s isolated herself from her husband, family, and friends in the name of dedicating every second and thought to Villanelle?

Maybe she should have been clearer.

Eve remembers when the psychologist asked if they were having sex. It was a confident “no” Eve gave, and he pressed no further about that aspect.

If he probed a little harder, she would’ve probably revealed that long ago she admitted to herself the sexual attraction. There’s really no use denying it after you fuck your husband after receiving funeral flowers from a 26-year-old female assassin. Eve doesn’t know which of those adjectives would make her ailing mother keel over first, “26,” “female,” or “assassin.”

So yes, Eve’s pissed at Villanelle for trying to “rid” Niko from Eve. To make space for herself, Eve assumes, despite Eve long ago cutting that tie herself.

And as she gets ready to go back to her old workplace, Eve’s really not in the mood for the amount of “I told you so’s” she’s anticipating receiving.

They will all think Eve was delusional, and Villanelle never cared for her or anyone else while working for MI6.

They will not realize that Eve got shot because Villanelle had felt rejected. That Eve had felt manipulated. That there was an _I love you_ and tears and a lot of almost moments.

The mutual anger, desire, and heartbreak all pooled into one.

As she finally leaves the house to take the tube to work, she is particularly irritated with herself for still caring and wondering at all about Villanelle.

Villanelle had tried to kill her. She should hate her. But to be fair Eve knows that the assassin will rationalize it as Eve also tried to kill her, too. An eye for an eye, if you will.

But selfishly, Eve thought she would always be an exception to Villanelle’s violence. She felt special in that way. Chosen.

How pitifully wrong she had been.

Eve is not ready to even think about the possibility of seeing Villanelle again. She has no idea what either’s reaction would be. There are no guidebooks on relationships where you both have tried to kill each other with a smattering of intense sexual desire cut with actual feelings and lots and lots of murder in between.

She gets to the MI6 office and tells herself to focus. It would be insane of her to step into Carolyn’s office and immediately ask if she knows anything about Villanelle. She needs to center herself in reality. Ask if Hugo’s alive, ask about Niko’s safety, and hope that she’s not going to be convicted of murder anytime soon.

But with every step towards Carolyn’s office, her heart beats harder and is almost thrumming to the beat of _Villanelle, Villanelle, Villanelle, _and the possibility that Carolyn might talk about her with Eve.

Eve catches a glimpse of herself from the reflection of a wall, and she barely recognizes herself.

* * *

Villanelle is not stupid. She considers herself resourceful and savvy. However, what she’s about to do could be categorized as very stupid, but since she acknowledges that it is stupid, she’s exempt from the adjective.

She returns back to the hotel the Twelve had her in when Raymond was her handler. And the one where MI6 found her. And also Konstantin found her.

She’s basically begging to be found.

Technically, she’s a bit homeless right now. Easily fixable, except she’s never actually set up a living situation for herself since her prison escape. The Twelve had always done it for her, and then Eve and her team took care of her in London.

She figures the man in the lobby could be tortured for information. They had a nice rapport when she stayed there. Plus, she’s got a knife and gun hidden on her body, and wouldn’t mind a bloody fight.

Yes, she could go straight to Eve’s house, and see if she is there. But she figures the Twelve has to be watching her, plus Eve needs some cool off time to realize she made a huge mistake not leaving with her.

Also, Villanelle had decided on the plane ride over she is no longer in love with Eve. Simple enough. So she’s withholding the urge to check in on her, and trying not to fantasize about how Eve must be stewing about her.

She also hopes there is someone checking in on Eve and telling her to keep her stitches clean, and don’t trust anyone new that comes in her life they could be working for someone, and that watching a mindless sitcom will help if she is still nauseous about her first kill.

But, again, she’s actively not in love with Eve anymore.

When she rounds the corner to the hotel she refocuses and prepares for whatever awaits her. She can already see through the glass window there’s a man.

She keeps a hand on the back of where her gun rests in her belt pocket and opens the door.

“Oh for fucks sake,” she groans when she sees the man, “I am supposed to find _you_ and torture _you!_”

A deep chuckle from the man.

“It would be pretty embarrassing to be tortured by a girl who goes to the first place she can think of in London,” Konstantin replies. “Sit down, do not shoot me with that gun you are fiddling within your pocket, and listen.”

Villanelle flops onto the couch, pretends to pout, and secretly swallows the lump in her throat at the relief that Konstantin knows her so incredibly well.

* * *

“Eve! You look well. Despite everything.” Carolyn sits behind her desk, utterly at peace.

Eve looks at her, infuriated by her poise.

“I’m not interested in small talk with you. What’s happened to Niko? Hugo?”

Carolyn ignores the questions, “What on earth have I done? That you won’t speak with me?”

“Um, well for starters you completely manipulated Villanelle and me. You used us for your own dirty diggings.”

“Is that such a crime? Or, is a brutally murdered body in a hotel hallway perhaps more adverse when it comes to the law?” Carolyn looks at Eve- smug, waiting, and infuriatingly unfazed.

Eve breathes hard, rage rising in her bones, “What do you want from me?”

“I want you here. At MI6. Where you will continue to look at curious murders around Europe.”

“Why? Because of her?”

“She’s part of it,” Carolyn nods. “If I were you, Eve. I wouldn’t refuse this offer. We already have security monitoring your house, a little MI6 perk.”

“I don’t even know who or what I work for,” Eve spits out.

Carolyn’s look turns menacing. “What an odd thing for you to say. If you refuse this, I suspect you might be looking at a shorter lifespan if that’s of interest to you.”

“Is this blackmail?”

“Mmmm, let’s go with business. Also, I know how you must be worried sick, but your dearly beloved is in the next room over. He’s waiting to be taken into witness protection.”

“Niko?” Eve immediately turns for the door.

“Ah! So glad you remember his name,” Carolyn says, without a hint of irony, as Eve exits the door to find her husband.

* * *

“So turns out, Eve and you not so much the same, yeah?” Konstantin chuckles.

Villanelle doesn’t dignify that question with an answer, “Why did you come after me? I thought we were not family.”

“You know,” he pauses and chooses his words carefully, “I have to say and do certain things to play both sides. So we can both be safe. Running away with Eve, I assumed you would be safe, but now that hasn’t happened. So you are not so safe anymore. You need help.”

“I still want to torture your family.”

“I know, and God love you for your persistence. But I want you to come with me. I show you something. Keep you safe.”

“I don’t need your help,” Villanelle makes eye contact with him. Konstantin holds her gaze and everything unspoken between them lays thick in the silence.

Villanelle vomiting into a bucket, and weeping like a child. Konstantin holding and stroking her hair, sleeping on the floor and checking in with her to make sure she had water and was breathing.

“But I will come with you,” she finishes. She hates that Konstantin has this hold over her. It’s not the hold he has as her handler, but the hold that he always takes care of her. That she needs him.

She hates that she loves him. Not like with Anna, or Eve, that is repulsive. It is something else entirely.

So she gets up to indicate she will follow, and something in the back of her mind nags at her that she would definitely be dead a thousand times over if it wasn’t for Konstantin.

* * *

Eve is pretty sure that the entire Cold War had less tension than this room she is currently in. Niko is staring at her, bruised and broken, both waiting for the other to speak.

Eve isn’t quite sure what to say. She tries to find the words, but Niko gets there first.

“So she shot you.” A statement. Not a question.

“Yes.”

“Are you alright?” he asks. How dare he still care about her? After how little she has of him.

“Yes,” Eve replies, “A few stitches and antibiotics.”

He nods.

“Well, better off then Gemma.” He tries to say it casually but his voice chokes in the middle.

“I’m sorry, Niko.” Eve is surprised by the earnesty in her voice. She realizes she really is sorry for the poor teacher.

“They are sending me to witness protection, Eve. I don’t want you to come. Or pretend to care anymore.”

Eve doesn’t want to fight. He’s right; she doesn’t want to pretend anymore. Put up a front that this marriage is something she values anymore.

“That’s fair,” is all she says.

“Take care of yourself, Eve,” Niko says it dismissively, and Eve takes that as a sign to turn to the door.

She has her hand on the handle before she turns to him again and asks, “Did you love her? Gemma?” It’s a selfish question. She wants to know if they both fell out of their marriage, finding someone else that suits them so much better than each other.

Niko stares at her for a long moment.

“You know, she asked the _same _fucking question. Before killing her.” He put his hands in his face, and lets out what sounds like a sob, “Get the fuck out.”

Eve nods, there’s no point in giving another useless apology, and closes the door on her marriage and her last string to normalcy.

* * *

Eve’s dreams that night are scattered and strange.

First, she is lying with her head in Villanelle’s lap and her hair is being stroked. Villanelle is singing sweetly to her and they are cozy in a cabin. Eve looks up from her lap and realizes dead bodies surround them.

Villanelle says in a muted voice, “Why did you have to kill so many people, Eve? Why can’t we just be together?”

The dream shifts and all the sudden Villanelle is screaming “Again!” underneath her only for Eve to realize she is stabbing her.

Another shift, she and Villanelle have killed a lifeless Carolyn.

Another shift and Villanelle is moaning into her ear, just like in Rome, except this time Eve is touching her body.

Another shift and Raymond’s bloody corpse is underneath her fingertips.

Another shift and she is kissing Villanelle, pinning her to the wall, only to realize more dead bodies are by their feet.

Eve wakes up, panting.

She’s confused. And horrified. Not because the dream was scary but because there is a thrumming, undeniable _ache_ between her legs. She’s fucking _aroused_.

She doesn’t dare slip a hand beneath her shorts, afraid of what her fantasy might lead her to.

Instead, she hops into the shower at 4 a.m. and scrubs her body raw. As if she could rid herself from the living nightmare she’s in.

Rid herself of who she has become, of her desires, of her guilt.

It’s a lot to ask from one shower, and as the steam from the shower fills the bathroom up, Eve’s brain clouds deeper into thoughts of killing and sex.

Her body letting her know that the two concepts, and her reactions to them, are becoming more blurred, more similar, than ever before.

* * *

Villanelle is in the car with Konstantin. He’s driving and she is singing along to the car. It’s a pretty little French tune and Villanelle realizes how much she misses using the language.

Her mood is light. She feels optimistic with Konstantin with her. Maybe they can soon collect Eve, and Konstantin can talk some sense in her that she is no longer safe.

Konstantin pulls the car into a suburb of London. Somewhere Villanelle hasn’t been before.

“Is this where they keep your family?” Villanelle can’t believe her luck that maybe she will stay in a nice home, and taunt Irina for fun.

“You think I would bring you straight to my family? Are you mad?”

Villanelle scoffs at the accusation, but Konstantin is already pulling something out of his pocket.

“I’m about to show you something. It is a good thing, so don’t get upset.” He unfolds what looks like a picture, and shows it to Villanelle.

It’s a picture of a man, perhaps a few years older than Villanelle. He has brown hair, high cheekbones.

But the most striking part of him is the eyes. They are large, set far apart, and an interesting color between green and brown

They look just like Villanelle’s.

Konstantin begins, “This is Ivan Astankova. Your half brother, and he is going to make us both safe, and very, very rich.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took longer than anticipated because I had to take 3-5 business days to process the pictures of Sandra Oh on set


End file.
